


Filling a Space

by Asidian



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Furniture, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kotetsu arrives before he says he will for once, announcing his presence with a jaunty knock on the door.</p><p>Barnaby opens it to find his partner's arms full with a cardboard box, and his hands full with plastic cups in crinkled paper sleeves. He has no idea how Kotetsu managed to knock at all, until he envisions the dirt print in the shape of a shoe that's surely on the outside of his door.</p><p>"Jeez, Bunny," says Kotetsu, and shoves one of the cups at him. "Not even dressed yet?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filling a Space

**Author's Note:**

> This started out being about coffee. Somehow it turned into this, and the only thing that ties it to the original concept is that Kotetsu still brings Barnaby coffee. Heheh, oops?
> 
> Anyway, first time writing dialogue for these two. I hope I do them justice.

Kotetsu arrives before he says he will for once, announcing his presence with a jaunty knock on the door.

Barnaby opens it to find his partner's arms full with a cardboard box, and his hands full with plastic cups in crinkled paper sleeves. He has no idea how Kotetsu managed to knock at all, until he envisions the dirt print in the shape of a shoe that's surely on the outside of his door.

"Jeez, Bunny," says Kotetsu, and shoves one of the cups at him. "Not even dressed yet?"

Barnaby smooths down the collar of his pajamas, self-conscious. They are a two-piece set in red silk, button-up, long-sleeved – a gift from an outraged Kotetsu last Christmas, when he admitted that he slept in nothing but shorts, even in winter.

"You're early," Barnaby tells him mildly. "You can't expect me to predict the unprecedented."

Kotetsu just laughs and comes in without being invited; Barnaby shuts the door after him. By the time he's turning around, his partner has hunkered down on the floor and is setting the box beside him.

"What's all this about?" says Barnaby, as he watches Kotetsu unpack – first bagels, then cream cheese, then lox and cucumber. A basket of strawberries is the last thing to join them.

"Breakfast for the birthday boy," says Kotetsu, and produces a knife from the box, as well. "Somebody's not a fan of parties, so I had to think on my feet."

"There really is a first time for everything," Barnaby tells him, with mock-wonder, and comes over to sit cross-legged on the floor beside his partner. He hesitates a moment, then helps himself to a strawberry, and Kotetsu's smirk can only be described as triumphant.

"Since it's your birthday," Kotetsu says, waving the knife hand unconcernedly, "I'll even spare you the amazing comeback I just thought up."

"Lucky me," says Barnaby, and bites into the strawberry. It's good – a deep, inviting red, firm and sweet. The juice spreads over his tongue, and he feels the corner of his lips quirk up.

Then Kotetsu starts cutting the bagels.

"Hey, old man," he says. "You're getting crumbs all over my floor."

"If you had actual furniture," Kotetsu points out, "I could be doing this on a coffee table, and we could be sitting on a couch."

Barnaby takes another strawberry. "And clutter up the room?"

Kotetsu snorts. "Is it really clutter, so much as filling up empty space?"

He hands over the first bagel, and Barnaby carefully spreads on the cream cheese, arranges the lox and the cucumbers, and hands it back to Kotetsu. The second bagel he keeps for himself.

When their wristbands start beeping partway through the meal, they scramble for the door.

"Pajamas," Kotetsu reminds him, and Barnaby freezes mid-step, makes a face that's evidently hilarious, because his partner's trying to stifle laughter.

He disappears into his room – returns in half a minute, fully clothed, and then they're moving again, the abandoned breakfast still spread out over the floor.

Kotetsu follows him home again some hours later, both of them bruised and disheveled, to help clean up the crumbs.

===

The smooth, sterile halls of Maverick's mansion are lined with doors.

Barnaby is four years old again, and he walks the corridors with hesitant steps. He peers into room after room – spotlessly clean, relentlessly cold. Each chamber is an empty space, nothing more.

The room at the end of the hall is different. He knows before he touches the doorknob – knows before he pulls it wide what he'll see, but he can't stop from looking.

And there they are – his parents, just a pile of crumpled limbs on the floor. Smoke billows out from the room, thick and dark and choking. He can smell their flesh beginning to cook, and the scent lodges in his throat.

He can't stay. He can't – he'll throw up, or lose his mind, or crawl into the flames himself, to remain beside them.

He turns to run, blinded by tears, and barrels straight into Mr. Maverick, who was standing behind him all along.

"My parents," Barnaby gasps out.

Mr. Maverick puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be all right."

A blue light swells and swells, drowning out the world – and Barnaby wakes in tears, sits up shaking in bed. The smell of smoke is still caught in the back of his throat.

When he thinks he can stand, he does so, aware of the moonlight filtering in through the window, aware of the chill of the floor on his bare feet.

He walks to the living room and stands there, staring out at the bleak, hard lines of it. He closes his eyes, and he opens them again, and nothing has changed.

The empty space and the single chair are bathed blue in the moonlight.

===

The delivery men come at three in the afternoon on the following day.

They maneuver through the door with brisk professionalism, and they unpack their tools, and they take care of the assembly that's required.

Barnaby pays the exorbitant fee for rush delivery, and he adds a generous tip on top of it. When they're gone, he picks up the phone and calls his partner.

===

Kotetsu arrives an hour later than he says he will – announces himself with a jaunty little knock.

"It's open," Barnaby calls, and his partner lets himself in.

Kotetsu pulls up short in the doorway, surprise spreading over his face, slow and sweet like chilled maple syrup. Then the widened eyes and slack mouth are replaced by a pleased, creeping grin.

"And here I brought a picnic blanket," he says. He shuts the door and toes off his shoes – throws himself down on the sleek, grey length of the brand new couch.

Spread before it is a coffee table all in metal and glass. It's lined with Chinese takeout – flimsy cartons piled high with noodles and almond chicken.

"We could always put it underneath," Barnaby tells him. "I know what a mess you make."

"Oh, come on," Kotetsu protests. "I spilled hot sauce one time."

"And the bagels," Barnaby points out. "And that once with the fried rice. And –"

Kotetsu throws his hands up. "Did I come here for a lecture, or a movie?"

"The movie's the main draw," Barnaby tells him, face softening into a smile. "The lecture comes free."

The movie's a thriller Kotetsu's been wanting to see. Thirty minutes in, there have been four explosions, and Barnaby's pointed out two plot holes.

They work their way through the Chinese food while they watch.

Kotetsu drops a single noodle, starts guiltily and shoots a sidelong look at Barnaby's face. He calls out, "Look, what's that?" and when Barnaby says, "What's what?" and obliges him by pretending to fall for it, he scoops the noodle up off the floor and crams it into his mouth.

When the movie's finished, Barnaby cleans up the takeout boxes and they put on another one – more sedate, this time, out of consideration for his neighbors. It's pushing 10 pm.

The couch fits both of them, and Barnaby likes it well enough, just for that. He likes it even better when Kotetsu tucks his legs up and leans to one side, using Barnaby like an extra cushion.

Maybe it's the warmth of him, solid and reassuring. Maybe it's the lack of sleep from the night before. But Barnaby' eyes keep drifting closed, for longer and longer stretches. He's not sure what the characters in the movie are doing anymore. He's lost the plot completely, he thinks – and it's his last thought until some time later, when he wakes.

The movie's long finished, and the air is chill and quiet, the way it gets before dawn. Beside him – against him – Kotetsu is snoring softly.

The moon's light spills in through the window, pale blue like a nightmare, but this time it doesn't catch in Barnaby's throat. This time, he can breathe.

He should get up and find the remote to turn the tv off, but Kotetsu is a sturdy weight against him. Every time his chest rises, Barnaby can feel the swell of it.

"Quit snoring, old man," he murmurs, fondly.

Instead of getting up, he closes his eyes and drifts back off to sleep.


End file.
